


Nicotine Pt. 1 (Dean)- A Destiel One-Shot

by Fangirling_FTW



Series: Destiel One-Shots [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Bottom Dean, Destiel - Freeform, Destiel One Shot, Fluff, M/M, Nightclub, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Top Castiel, handjobs, two parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-14 00:28:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5722759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirling_FTW/pseuds/Fangirling_FTW
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one night stand Dean can't ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nicotine Pt. 1 (Dean)- A Destiel One-Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, don't bother looking for plot. *shrugs* This just kinda popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. Semi fluffy ending that I have no idea where it came from, but there it is. Song is "Nicotine" by Panic! at the Disco.

_Cross my heart and hope to die_ __  
_Burn my lungs and curse my eyes_ __  
_I've lost control and I don't want it back_ __  
_I'm going numb, I've been hijacked_ __  
_It's a fucking drag_ __  
__  
_I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you_ __  
_So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do_ __  
_Yeah, you're worse than nicotine, nicotine [2x]_ __  
__  
_It's better to burn than to fade away_ __  
_It's better to leave than to be replaced_ __  
_I'm losing to you, baby, I'm no match_ __  
_I'm going numb, I've been hijacked_ __  
_It's a fucking drag_ __  
__  
_I taste you on my lips and I can't get rid of you_ __  
_So I say damn your kiss and the awful things you do_ __  
_Yeah, you're worse than nicotine, nicotine [2x]_ __  
_Yeah_ __  
__  
_Just one more hit and then we're through_ __  
_'Cause you could never love me back_ __  
_Cut every tie I have to you_ __  
_'Cause your love's a fucking drag_ __  
_But I need it so bad_ __  
_Your love's a fucking drag_ __  
_But I need it so bad_ __  
__  
_Yeah, you're worse than nicotine, nicotine [2x]_ _  
_ _Yeah_

_\----------_

 

Dean didn't party. He didn't go out and drink all night at sleazy clubs that stank of sex and booze and God knows what drugs people were smoking. He didn't sleep around, either, but the six month dry spell after breaking up with his fiancé Lisa had made him fucking desperate.

So there he was, sitting at one of the said sleazy bars, hating his life, watching people gyrate and grind against each other on the dance floor, nursing a whiskey and wondering what part of coming out to this club was a good idea. He was about to give up and leave when he noticed a small crowd form at one end of the dance floor. He followed their gazes and claps to the source and nearly fell off his bar stool.

A man had just walked in, waving at the crowd and making his way to the bar. He was wearing black dress pants, a jacket and a coat hanging over his arm, and his white button up half undone. When he reached the bar, he handed the extra clothes over, pulling a tie off his neck and there was no way in _hell_ that should have been as attractive as it was. Dean leaned forward to watch the bartender towards the end smile and chat with him as they poured out four shots of something. A regular then. The man downed them in quick succession and made his way out to the small crowd of people waiting under the brightly colored lights.

Undoing the last of his buttons, the man’s dress shirt fell open to reveal a beautifully toned core hidden under a white wife beater tank. Dean finished his whiskey, and a voice in the back of his head started to nag at him about leaving again. Instead his feet carried him to the edge of the dance floor, finding a vacant table and leaning against it to watch the man. He was surrounded by the crowd that had greeted him, but he could just pick out the mess of dark hair standing just above everyone else. A small cheer went up from the group again and a white dress shirt started swinging over their heads, someone taking it and walking it to the bar. The crowd seemed to thin out then and finally Dean could see him, dancing with a girl at his front and back.

He felt his mouth go dry.

Well muscled arms led into shoulders broader than they looked under his clothes, and between the jaw line and the low sling of his pants Dean just couldn't stop staring. Like a moth to a flame he couldn't break his eyes away from him, no matter how much he wanted to. He had no idea how long he stared, how long he leaned on that table, all that mattered was the man in the tank with the sex hair. He wasn’t usually this ‘lust at first sight’ type of person, the one that just drooled over someone sexy. In fact, he didn’t believe he’d had this reaction to _anyone_ before, this jaw on the floor “I _want_ them so fucking bad” kind of blindsided desire. Just one look and Dean was addicted, and he was absolutely terrified.

 _Wait, was he looking at me?_ It was hard to tell in the dim light. He was moving away from his group, _towards_ Dean’s table.   _Run, get out!_ his brain screamed, but he was frozen, his legs not responding as the man got closer and closer. He was opposite Dean at the table now, and he could see his deep blue eyes, piercing in their intensity, boring into Dean’s and making him feel exposed to his core. He held out his hand, silent in invitation, and goddammit Dean took it, allowing him to pull him out into the crowd of sweaty, dancing bodies moving in time to the heavy beat of the music. Dean’s heart was racing as they stopped walking and the man stepped in close, all concept of personal space shot to hell, his hands sliding across Dean’s hips and moving him in time with the music. Dean’s eyes were everywhere on him, his lips, his chest, the all-to-closeness of his hips, and _God_ his eyes.

Dean lost himself, lost any sense of time or place, just the feel of the man against his body, the feel of him under his hands because they were moving across his arms and hips now, unable to keep them to himself. The man spun in his arms, pressing his back to Dean and rolling his hips back and _fuck_ Dean was hard, the steady movement of their bodies against each other maddening. Two wing tattoos spread down his arms from underneath the tank on his back, and Dean found himself tugging at the fabric to see more of them, his fingers exploring the inked skin in slight awe. The man arched his back, laying his neck bare as he rested his head against Dean’s shoulder, a hand running up into Dean’s hair and Dean’s lips moved to the exposed skin, tasting the salt of his sweat and the cologne the man wore that night, and he was drunk on it, the heady mix stronger than alcohol. The man rolled his hips again and Dean’s hands slid around him, pulling the man flush against him, his need reaching levels of desperation.

Almost like he heard his thoughts, the man stepped away, grabbing Dean’s hand tightly and dragging him through the crowd as quick as possible. Anticipation was making Dean tremble, his stomach filled with dancing butterflies, and his eyes never left the man until they were pulled into a dark hallway, the heavy pound of the music dulled slightly, the noises of the club muted. Dean hardly had a moment to breathe before the man was on him, pulling him close, his lips finding Dean’s in a wet, open mouthed kiss. Dean pushed him back against the wall, hands everywhere, scrambling for purchase as he rolled his hips against Dean again, muffled moans escaping both men. Dean’s hand ran down his thigh, lifting his leg tight against his hip and slotting their hips closer together, both hard shafts finding friction against the other. Dean dipped his lips to the man’s neck again, desperate to taste him, and he hardly registered the hands undoing his belt and pants until he felt bare flesh on his cock.

A pause, green eyes meeting blue, a moment to look for permission. _God yes,_ Dean’s mind is screaming, and the man seemed to understand because his fingers start to move along his cock again, teasing along the head. Dean starts to fumble with the man’s pants, managing to get them undone and pulling them down just far enough to get to the other man’s twitching erection. The man leans in and kisses Dean sloppy, wiggling Dean’s pants out of the way so their cocks could slide together unhindered, and Dean moaned brokenly. The man wrapped a fist around the both of them, firm and steady strokes pulling Dean close to his edge. It was a little dry, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about that because he was so _fucking_ close. The man leaned in, forehead resting against Dean’s as he gasped for breath.

“Together?” he asked. It was the first word he’d heard him say all night, the deep scratch of his voice saturated in desire nearly made Dean’s knees give out. He just nodded against him, letting him capture his lips one last time as with one, two, three pulls they both flew into their orgasms, Dean leaning heavily against the other man to keep from collapsing.

Once he was able to breathe again, he leaned back, and the man didn’t hesitate, removing his tank and cleaning them up as best he could. He tucked himself back in his pants as Dean did the same, turning back for the door to the club. Dean couldn’t speak, his throat dry and his heart beat flailing rapidly in his chest. The man gave him a smile and turned away, angel wing tattoos disappearing into the crowd.

~*~

It had been one month. One fucking month and Dean couldn’t take it any more.

That night he’d been so ashamed when he’d somehow managed to get home, hating the man for seducing him into that hallway. He didn’t _do_ things like that, he wasn’t a one night stand, get off and go kind of guy, and the taste of the man’s skin on his lips the next morning left a bitter taste in his mouth. For a week he wallowed in his apartment, going straight home after work and drinking himself to sleep.

The second week, he still wasn’t happy about the encounter, but then why the hell had he gone to the club that night, right? He needed a fucking release and he got one, so why the hell was he so upset?

The third week went by and he couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of his skin, the feel of his hands on Dean’s body, the way his back arched and his hips pressed into him. His work performance was suffering but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Rushed sessions with his fist in the shower and in bed at night didn’t work, he was itchy and he knew exactly what he needed to scratch it. But no, he wasn’t that kind of guy, so he stayed home, refusing to go back and see if he could find the blue eyed man again. Hell, he didn’t even know his name.

The fourth week had him on edge, nearly shaking with his struggle to maintain self control. If he wasn’t that kind of guy, maybe he should try to talk to him? At least learn his name? He didn’t get the relationship vibe off the guy at the bar, but maybe that was because they were at the fucking bar. The man _was_ probably that kind of guy, the one night, love ‘em and leave ‘em type, the practiced way he’d gotten Dean going so quickly led him to think that was more likely than Dean liked to admit. Would he even want to talk to Dean, was this all just a waste of time? He’d tried forgetting about him, and that hadn’t fucking worked.

He was at his wits end, driving himself crazy with what ifs, and in the end it wasn’t a surprise when he found himself back at the bar after that awful fourth week. He hated himself for being there, but he was twitchy and irritated and he just needed to see him and talk to him. He waited at one of the tables again, watching the crowd closely to see if he could find him. It would be Dean’s luck if he didn’t even show up that night, forcing him to come back another day to this shit hole. He hadn’t even had anything to drink yet, not wanting to risk alcohol having an effect on him.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his lower back and a nose against the side of his neck. He spun, flailing, to see the man standing there, blue eyes amused and shining. He was wearing faded jeans this time, a baggy tee shirt over top, edges worn and stretched. His hair was an even bigger mess, sticking up at unnatural angles. All the indignant words Dean wanted to say hovered right on the tip of his tongue, all the anger and regret he’d felt over the past month. The man seemed to sense this and waited, watching him from a small distance, and Dean flushed and _hated_ that he missed him so fucking much. The light touch against his skin already had his body reacting to memories of his previous visit, his heart pounding so hard in his chest it hurt. He attempted to force his body to back away, to step back and just leave, ashamed of the heat in his skin just by being around this man. All he succeeded in doing was nearly stumbling and falling over backwards, the man reaching out and grabbing him before he fell, muscled arms actually as strong as they looked.

He wanted to push him away, wanted to get away from him and from this place and just _leave._ Instead, he leaned in closer, taking in the scent of the same fucking cologne and felt those same hands run across his shoulders and he was done with reason, done with worrying about the type of person he was, because he _needed_ that touch, fucking _craved_ it. He’d deal with the self loathing later, right now all he wanted was the man, and _now._ He reached out, taking the man’s hand and dragging him towards the doors, and he came without argument, a smirk on his face. Dean stumbled out into the dark parking lot, urgency pushing him to hurry, and he didn’t pause or stop until they reached his 1967 Chevy Impala. When he turned back to the man, there was an impressed look on his face, and he leaned in, crowding Dean against the car and kissing him demandingly.

A strange, blissed out feel came over Dean, his anxieties and worry washed away in the touch and feel of the man pressed against him. A knee slid between his legs, and soon enough they were each rolling into the other’s hardness, a natural rhythm falling between them like they were meant to be doing this. Like their bodies were made for the other, the way they slotted together just right. Dean gasped as the man’s lips slid down his jaw to tease at the skin just below his ear, and he eagerly ran his hands up the back of the man’s shirt, over the tattoos he knew covered his skin. The man’s hands ran over his stomach, sliding down to his jeans and undoing his belt and pants with practiced ease. Dean gasped, looking frantically around the parking lot. He felt the man’s fingers slide past his waistband and drag along his cock through his boxer briefs. He released the man long enough to fumble with the car door, breaking contact long enough to get the door open and to slide into the backseat. The man smirked, and Dean felt a hungry grin spread across his own face. Once the car door was closed behind them, Dean propped up against the far door, the man settled between Dean’s legs, rucking up his shirt and leaning in to kiss his exposed skin hungrily.

Dean’s breath was coming in gasps as the man’s talented lips traced his skin, dancing along almost every sensitive spot he had. He slid down Dean’s body, tugging his jeans as he went and pulling them just below Dean’s ass, taking the elastic of his boxer briefs in hand and doing the same.

He should stop this, he really- _holy fuck!_

The man wrapped his lips around Dean’s cock, sucking greedily as he slid down his length. A choked off cry slipped from his lips, and his hips rose into the wet warmth engulfing him. The man hummed, sending shivers through Dean’s body, working the base of his shaft with his fist as his lips wrapped tight around the head of his cock. Dean was lost in a bright haze of pleasure, the man’s tongue doing things to him he’d never felt before, and when he removed his hand and slid as far down Dean’s cock as he could, Dean came hard, barely able to cry out a warning. The man caught every bit of his release, working him through it until Dean was utterly spent. The man’s lips traced a line up his body again, coming to rest against Dean’s neck, lazy kisses against his collarbone all the way up to his ear. Dean could sense movement, and he glanced down to see the guy palming at his cock through his jeans. Dean reached down, undoing the button and zipper and sliding his hand under the man’s waistband.

He was going _fucking commando_ , and Dean groaned at the realization. He ran his fingers along the man’s cock, velvety soft touches that made his breath come hot and quick against his shoulder. With his other hand, he encouraged the man to climb into his lap, getting a better angle on his exposed cock and pumping him steadily, his thumb spreading pre-come over his fingers to make the slide smoother. Small moans were tumbling from the man’s throat as he rocked into Dean’s hand, his hands scrambling for purchase against Dean’s body. Dean could feel the tensing of his muscles where the man’s thighs were straddling him, and he gave his next few pulls a slight twist.

“Come for me,” he purred, surprised at the sound of his own voice, but stopped caring a moment later when the man cried out and painted Dean’s stomach and hand in his release. Dean worked him through it, until the man started to tremble at the over stimulation, releasing him and capturing his lips in soothing kisses. Dean fumbled for the floor of the car, grabbing an old shirt he’d tossed back there and wiping off himself and the man. A bit awkwardly, they shifted so they were sitting next to each other in the car, both getting redressed as quickly as sitting in a car would allow. Dean felt the similar shame he’d felt last month creeping up on him, the thought that _he wasn’t like this_ crossing his mind again and filling him with an afterglow killing disgust at himself. The man seemed oddly hesitant, too, reaching for the door handle but pausing before opening the door. Dean wanted to say so much, to ask so many questions, try and make sense of this strange addiction he was forming for this man and his touches, but nothing came out. When the door popped open, he reached out, grabbing hold of the man’s hand to stop him.

“What’s your name?” he asked breathlessly. The man smiled at him, his blue eyes shining in the light from the street lamp outside Dean’s car.

“Castiel. Yours?”

“Dean.”

“Well, I guess I’ll see you around, Dean,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I guess…” He smiled at Dean one last time and climbed out of the car. Dean leaned forward, hitting his head against the seat in front of him. Well, _that_ night didn’t quite go how he’d planned it.

~*~

Another week of self loathing for giving in to his base desires over logical thought.

Another week drinking to try and get to sleep.

Another week of fucking _longing_ for Castiel.

He didn’t make it to the fourth week this time, he was shaking for Castiel, needing to see him again like an addict needs a hit. In many ways he realized that’s what he was becoming, an addict to his touches, to the feel of his body and his skin.

And Dean _hated_ himself for it.

He walked in the club after that third week, making his way towards his table, and was startled to see Castiel already standing there, his shoulders slumped and his normal swagger missing, wearing the same suit he’d stripped out of the first time Dean saw him. He had come here tonight with the intention of having one last hit, one last time before he told Castiel he wasn’t coming back. If they just _talked_ about this maybe Dean would realize how ridiculous he was being. Seeing Castiel like that, it pulled at a part of him he didn’t even know existed. Dean sighed, feeling like this could possibly be the worst mistake of his life, but Castiel had a hold on him and it just wasn’t going away. They’d only seen each other twice, and he just _fucking_ knew he wasn’t going to be able to let him go. He walked up to the table and wrapped his arms around Castiel from behind. Castiel relaxed, his hands finding Dean’s and his head falling back to rest on his shoulder.

“I missed you,” Castiel said, just loud enough to be heard over the music. Dean felt his breath catch in his throat. He’d been going through withdrawals for Castiel, he had never considered that the other man might feel the same. Castiel must have noticed his sudden tension, because he turned in Dean’s arms, his arms snaking up and around Dean’s neck, and Dean was struck with how _different_ this time was. There was no heated want, no hurry. He scanned Castiel’s face, the lines at the corners of his eyes, the 5’o’cock shadow dusting his cheeks, and he was stunned by his beauty.

“I don’t- I have no fucking clue what’s happening to me,” Dean sighed. “We’ve barely even spoken, and I- I can’t…” Castiel leaned in, brushing a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.  
“I know, beautiful.” Castiel teased at the short hair on the back of Dean’s neck. Dean felt goosebumps run down his arms, tightening his hold on his waist, feeling him lean in closer and press his chest against Dean’s, his breath hot against Dean’s ear. “Come with me?” he asked. Dean nodded against his cheek and Castiel stepped away, taking Dean’s hand and leading him outside, straight for Dean’s car. He looked up at Dean, and a strange understanding passed between them. Dean opened the passenger door for him, sliding into the driver’s seat and driving them back to his apartment at breakneck speed. Neither man said anything else until the door to Dean’s apartment closed behind them, then Dean was being shoved roughly into the wall, Castiel’s lips capturing his in a searing kiss. Dean gave into it, the small taste enough to set him shaking with need. His hands pulled at Castiel’s coats, dropping them to the floor as Castiel pulled Dean’s shirt off, hands running over exposed skin eagerly.

“Castiel, I-” Dean gasped out, fingers struggling with his shirt buttons.

“Yes?” he breathed, hands sliding into the back pockets on Dean’s jeans and pulling him close.

“Please, don’t go,” he gasped out, finally pulling Castiel’s shirt from his shoulders. Castiel paused, pulling back to look at him. Dean flushed, with need and vulnerability, but Castiel’s face broke into a smile.

“Not this time,” he cooed, running his finger along Dean’s jaw, his thumb tracing over Dean’s bottom lip.

That was all the reassurance Dean needed. He surged forward, his tongue slipping between Castiel’s lips, gently pushing him towards the bedroom. When that was going too slow, he slipped his hands down to Castiel’s thighs and lifted, Castiel flinging his arms around his neck tightly to keep from falling. Dean carried him into his bedroom, dropping him down on the bed and standing over him, gasping for air, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Castiel looked up at him from the bed, the same hunger and desperation in his eyes that Dean was feeling. Dean quickly stripped down to nothing, Castiel doing the same, and then it was skin on skin contact and _fuck_ it was everything in this world Dean could possibly want. Castiel’s hips rolled into Dean’s, their cocks sliding against each other smoothly, teeth and tongues exploring whatever skin they could reach. Dean licked a stripe up Castiel’s neck, the salty taste of his sweat mixed with cologne the drug Dean’s body was craving. Castiel pushed up on Dean’s shoulders, rolling them easily and settling between Dean’s legs, Dean’s spread thighs tucked up on top of Castiel’s, and Dean felt his body grow pliant under the other man’s touch.

“Like this?” Castiel asked breathlessly, a flush spread across his chest, eyes wide and shining. Dean hadn’t had intentions of the night going this way, the opposite actually, but Castiel was so hot leaning over him, cock brushing against his ass, and _fuck_ this wasn’t going to last long. Not trusting himself to speak, he blindly reached over the side of his bed, pulling his lube and a condom out of the bottom drawer of his nightstand. A brief look of awe spread across Castiel’s face before he took them from Dean, leaning in to kiss him deeply, emotion evident in the way he explored Dean’s mouth. Cool, moist fingers reached behind him and started to explore his entrance, teasing along the outer muscle before one slid inside him, buried up to the first knuckle. Dean’s breath escaped him in a hiss, it had been a really long time for him, but the sensation of Castiel’s finger moving inside him, stretching and massaging him soon had him keening for more. He rolled into Castiel’s hand, his leaking erection finding friction against Castiel’s stomach where he leaned over him. A second finger joined the first, scissoring and twisting slowly, and even that wasn’t enough. Once a third finger joined the first two, Cas finally started to crook his fingers, looking for Dean’s prostate. Sparks shot up Dean’s spine, his back arching off the bed as he cried out.

“God, _Castiel!”_ Castiel leaned forward, shushing him with soft kisses as his fingers continued to work him open.

“Fuck, Dean, you’re so beautiful,” Castiel panted against his lips, “you have no idea… no idea what you do to me…” He punctuated his statement with a few more caresses of Dean’s prostate, and Dean couldn’t have stopped the whine that escaped him for anything.

“I’m ready, please,” he gasped out, wrapping his legs around Castiel’s waist and urging him closer. Castiel locked his lips against Dean’s, swallowing his whimper when his fingers were removed to slide on the condom. Dean hears the sound of the lube opening, then feels the blunt tip of Castiel’s cock pressing into him. Castiel’s left hand runs up into Dean’s hair, fingers running along his scalp as he slides inside him. Their eyes meet as Castiel begins to move, a surreal mix of emotion and lust driving Dean absolutely crazy. He’s clawing at the sweat slicked skin above him, desperate for more contact, Castiel filling him up in every sense of the word. Hushed praises were whispered against flushed skin as Castiel rocked inside him, his right hand sliding between them to take hold of Dean’s aching erection.

“Together,” Castiel gasped, forehead pressed to Dean’s, thrusts becoming urgent. Dean nodded, and three thrusts later his thighs lock Castiel in place, painting both their stomachs in his release as Castiel spilled into the condom. They shared gentle kisses as they came down, Castiel sliding out of Dean and leaving just long enough to toss the condom and get something to clean them up. This time, though, he came back, sliding into Dean’s arms and curling up with him under Dean’s blanket.

They spent the entire next day in bed, talking and laughing, getting to know one another.

And that’s how they spent the rest of their lives.

Together.  

**Author's Note:**

> Check out part two of this fic!! It's Cas' POV XD
> 
> Comments are amazing and loved and PLEASE leave me some!! Thank you guys for reading!!


End file.
